A Family of Their Own - By Gail Gaymer Martin Page 0,13

way. Weighted with helplessness, Ross wondered if Peyton would have been different if Ruthie had lived.

The evening hadn’t started out well. When the hostess seated them, he had tried to manipulate Peyton in the middle beside Lucy, but she withdrew and sat beside him on the end. Kelsey took the seat next to him while Lucy sat on the other end—two girls like bookends. He hoped Peyton would brighten at their next stop, a surprise he thought she’d enjoy.

Having Kelsey beside him reminded him how nice it was to be a couple. They laughed and chatted like old friends, and he had a difficult time realizing they’d only met a short time ago. She fit into his life, and if the girls became friends, she could likely become a good friend. When he gazed at her profile, his pulse tripped. Connecting with a woman in such a natural way turned his life around. Ross spent his days concentrating on and worrying about Peyton, and Kelsey had become a needed distraction. A beautiful and amazing distraction.

She angled his way, her eyes catching his, and his pulse did more than trip. He hoped nothing went wrong with their friendship, but he’d prayed for his wife and for Peyton, too. God seemed to pick and choose which prayers He would answer.

The chef’s eyes caught his, and he leaned closer. “Is this the birthday girl?”

Ross nodded, and the man gave him a subtle wink.

Along with the other vegetables, the chef had placed thick slices of onion on the huge griddle, and while he chopped some of them, he allowed a few to grill. Within moments, he began selecting the onion rings from large to smaller, forming a cone. Lucy craned her neck to watch, and he nudged Peyton. “I think he’s doing this for you.”

She gazed up at him, her hazel eyes brighter than they’d been.

They watched him pour a liquid into the center of the rings and then turn to Peyton. “We don’t have birthday candles, but I’ve made you a birthday volcano.” He struck a match, held it over the center of the cone and a large flame shot from the top. Everyone at the table oohed, and Kelsey broke into the happy-birthday song. He and Lucy joined in, along with the chef and strangers sitting at their table surrounding the grill. Peyton beamed at the special attention, and it did his heart good.

She hadn’t said thank you, but she’d smiled, and the chef smiled back as he went from plate to plate with the vegetables before he prepared the meat.

Lucy leaned across her mother. “That was neat. Better than a birthday cake, right, Peyton?”

Peyton only nodded.

Lucy settled back in her chair, and Ross sent up a prayer that the Lord intervene in a big way as the evening went on, or tonight could be a total bust.

Kelsey watched the girls moving from exhibit to exhibit, delving into every hands-on physics experiment they ran across. Never having visited the Cranbrook Institute of Science, now she wished she’d brought Lucy here before. The place amazed her and delighted Lucy.

As the girls examined the equipment, learning how matter works, she’d found a bench and rested her feet. For some dumb reason, she’d worn pumps. But then dinner meant sitting. She grinned, recalling that Ross had stressed that the evening wouldn’t end with their meal.

As always, Lucy’s curiosity whetted her appetite not to miss a thing. She’d taken in all of the Cape Farewell exhibit, and wherever they went, Lucy had tried to engage Peyton, but the girl who rarely smiled seemed to withdraw into herself the more Lucy tried. Lucy’s disappointment showed, and Kelsey’s heart wrenched for Peyton as well as Ross. He’d tried so hard to engross her in conversation with Lucy numerous times without success.

Though the evening hadn’t been a disaster, Ross had obviously hoped for much more. Kelsey beckoned to him, seeing stress growing on his face.

He sidled next to her and released a lengthy sigh. “Sorry about the evening. As I said, Peyton has her moody times, and today seems to be one of them.”

“You’ve given her a great birthday celebration so don’t beat yourself up.”

“I know, but—”

She touched his arm. “Was it us? Is she distant because we’re here?”

He patted the back of her hand. “I really don’t think so. At home she’s often the same way. She stays in her room.” He pursed his lips, as if trying to bottle his emotions. “I don’t know what to do